


make this place your home

by Pomfry



Series: Fics for Friends [7]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bruce has a big personality, M/M, at least according to Hal's brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: Hal can’t wait to meet his soulmate. He’s had little flowers sprouting from his knees and knuckles for as long as he can remember, dark blue flowers that cover his entire hand. His brother jokes that they must have a big personality, and Hal can’t help but agree. He hopes they do, actually. He’s been informed many a time by his teachers that he’s a handful, and he thinks that his soulmate will have to have a big personality to compare to that.





	make this place your home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VirusZeref](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirusZeref/gifts).



> This is a soulmate au, where when your soulmate is hurt flowers bloom in the exact same place.
> 
> Virus said she wanted an au with this, so I wrote it.

Bruce has flowers, bright green chrysanthemums on his knuckles and lips. He’s had them since he was five, since he reached for a pen and found green on his arm. He doesn’t know who his soulmate is, and he - well, he doesn’t really care. He has a mission, a promise made when he was only a child, when he was kneeling in an alley with peonies and petunias around him. Even in death the flowers still grew. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

He has a quest set in his sights. He needs to clean Gotham, to get rid of the rot and grime and corruption. He needs to fix things. He has the power and money and means to do it, after all. He doesn’t have time for the chrysanthemums blooming under his suit, for the flowers he wakes up surrounded by. He doesn’t have the time or the patience to find them, frankly, and Gotham won’t wait for anyone.

So he ignores them, flattens them against his skin, and spares a thought of apology towards his soulmate. They must have had so many flowers, so many worry filled nights. Bruce doesn’t have the  _ time _ .

It’s only when he meets a little boy screaming for his parents to wake up, blood on his arms and flowers around his feet, that he thinks that, maybe, he would like to meet them.

 

\--

 

Hal can’t wait to meet his soulmate. He’s had little flowers sprouting from his knees and knuckles for as long as he can remember, dark blue flowers that cover his entire hand. His brother jokes that they must have a big personality, and Hal can’t help but agree. He hopes they do, actually. He’s been informed many a time by his teachers that he’s a handful, and he thinks that his soulmate will have to have a big personality to compare to that.

He never bothers to learn the name of his flower. To him, they’re his flowers, his soulmate flowers. What does the name matter?

When he’s in middle school, his friends start wondering what gender their soulmate is. Benny says he hopes it’s a boy, hopes that it’s sweet little Tommy in his math class. He waxes poetry about Tommy’s hair for five minutes before their friends laugh and clap him on the back, saying good luck. Then they turn to Hal, asking asking asking.

Hal smiles nervously, fingers fidgeting with the edges of his shirt. He knows what they expect from him. He’s went on and on about his flowers, about he was so sure they were a girl, someone beautiful and pretty and nice.

“What about you, Hal?” Phil asks, and Hal shoves his flower splattered fist into his jacket pocket.

“I think it’s a woman with blue eyes and a great smile!” he says, and they all laugh. Hal grins back until they move onto Jack and he lets it fall, quietly thinking that he wants it to be a boy with dark hair and a smile.

He’s fifteen when he starts opening his eyes to blue blue blue and he thinks that his soulmate got involved with something that he  _ isn’t supposed to. _ And Hal is gripped by panic, by fear that wraps around his throat. What is his soulmate doing?

Hal isn’t sure he wants to know. He just hopes they’re safe.

He becomes a pilot because he wants to fly, because he’s woken up from dreams about the sky and clouds around his face. He becomes a pilot because his flowers remind him of the night sky, clear and peaceful. He becomes a pilot because he hopes he’ll find his soulmate, ferrying them from place to place, and every time he picks someone up with dark hair, he wishes and he dreams. They never come, though, and Carol is so pretty. He falls into bed with her, sparing a thought of remorse. He wakes up his leg spilling flowers and he -

Well. He finds that he can’t be with Carol anymore, and searches the crowds for black hair and flowers in the same area as he accidentally cut himself making dinner.

Then he finds a ring and he’s swept into a world, into a life that makes him forget about the flowers that dominated his thoughts his whole life.

 

\--

 

Bruce is bleeding from his lip and his knee aches. It was a rough fight, he had to admit, and he can hear Dick caling for him, concern staining his voice as Wally supports him, bright red flowers where Dick is hurt.

Chrysanthemums bloom where his suit is ripped and Bruce can only sigh. Of course they would be hurt.

“Hey, Bats!” Hal’s suddenly there, green aura flickering as his ring depletes of power even more. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce says shortly, struggling to stand. “You?”   
  
“Ah, just a few -  _ ow _ \- cracked ribs. I’ll be okay. And I don’t believe you for a second.” Hal laughs and presses a hand against his knee, wincing. Flower stems tangle with his fingers and something quiet clicks in Bruce’s mind.

“Lantern,” he says, “my knee is hurt.”

Hal starts, eyes snapping up and over him, looking for injuries. They stop at his knee, the right one. He’s been careful to keep weight off of it, but -

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t  _ hurt. _

Hal’s eyes skitter to his ribs and the chrysanthemums there mock him in their vividness.

“Holy shit,” he says through bloodless lips as he stumbles to the ground, eyes wide.  _ ”Holy shit, _ it was  _ you?” _

“So it seems,” Bruce says, smiling tightly. “Now would you mind helping me up? I need to get to the infirmary. I can’t even stand.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hal mutters, hurrying over and wrapping an arm around his waist. “We are  _ so _ talking about this later. Do you know how many times I woke up with flowers in my mouth? Stop getting hurt!”   
  
“I could say the same to you,” Bruce snaps back, bristling. “You get blown up every other month! You have no sense of self preservation!”   
  
“You are out punching  _ crime in the face, you lunatic!  _ You have no room to talk!”

Bruce reaches up to smack Hal on the head. “You’re so infuriating,” he growls. “Why are  _ you _ my soulmate?”   
  
“I could say the same to you,” Hal mumbles back, but he catches Bruce as he loses his footing. “You do know that I’m now going to know if you’re hiding an injury, right?”

“Yes, yes,” Bruce says. “And I will know when you are bluffing about  _ not  _ landing on your face. I’ve had flowers on my nose before, Hal Jordan, and I  _ will know.” _

Hal winces. “Yeah, okay, fair.” They both go silent, looking away from each other. “I - hey, can I kiss you?”

_ “What?”  _ Bruce cannot believe this is his soulmate. Why out in  _ public?  _ Where any  _ reporters can see? _

“I just want to kiss my soulmate, okay?” Hal says defensively. “I won’t if you don’t want to.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, grabbing Hal’s jaw in one hand. “Okay,” he says, tired, and presses his lips against his soulmates. Flowers taste bad, he thinks, and lets go. “There. Now can we  _ please _ get to the infirmary.”

Hal’s grinning like an idiot as a glowing green platform forms beneath their feet. “Absolutely, dear,” he says, sounding giddy. “Whatever you want!”   
  
“You do realize you know have to help take care the kids, right?” Bruce asks in amusement.

Hal’s smile freezes. “Your kids are a terror, Bats.”   
  
“I’m well aware.”

“Fuck. What did I just sign up for?”

“Hell,” Bruce says, smiling. “Welcome to my life.”

Hal bumps his forehead against Bruce's shoulder. “Well, if you're there,” he says, fondness in his voice, “then it can't be all bad.”

“That's the spirit,” Bruce says. “Now stop getting hurt.”

“I'll do you one better,” Hal counters. “How about we  _ both  _ stop getting hurt? I'm tired of waking up with flowers.”

Bruce pretends to think it over, the Watchtower coming into view. “Okay,” he says as the doors open. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Hal pauses. “Nice to meet you, soulmate.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and brighten up my day and are saved in my Gmail.
> 
> Also! Here's my [Tumblr.](http://nikescaret.tumblr.com) Come visit and chat with me if you want!


End file.
